


Like a Dog With a Bone

by Griftings



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Anal Sex, Dom/sub, M/M, Oral Sex, Petplay, Rimming, Topping from the Bottom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-17
Updated: 2014-06-17
Packaged: 2018-02-05 00:02:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1798159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Griftings/pseuds/Griftings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>It’s nice, sometimes, for Cas to be the dog. The dog can show affection and acceptance in ways that Cas can’t, even if he feels them. Maybe because he feels them. Dean gets why the headspace appeals to him so much, anyway.</i>
</p><p> <i>He’s been tempted to try it himself, but he knows that he won’t be able to get into the character as well as Cas can. Unlike Cas, he didn’t take theatre all four years of high school.</i></p><p>Or, the one where Castiel gets his rocks off by acting like a dog, and Dean indulges him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Like a Dog With a Bone

**Author's Note:**

> i havent written outright porn in like two years, so apologies if it's not very good
> 
> i guess this needs a slight bestiality warning because cas is referred to as the dog?? but it's petplay so the connotations are way different but yeah if that's not your thing then this is your warning.

There is a folded piece of paper in a plastic baggie, in a lockbox, in a closet, in Castiel Novak and Dean Winchester’s apartment. On this piece of paper is a formal written list, signed and initialed by both Castiel and Dean in ink. It is the closest thing to a contract either of them is comfortable drawing up, and it says:

_1\. The dog does not have to be predetermined. The collar signifies the dog; when the collar is on, the dog is here. When the collar is off, the dog is gone._

_2\. Long-term scenes are predetermined and discussed by both parties. Short-term scenes do not require both parties to be engaged, but should have the respect of both parties._

_3\. The collar does not mean sex. Sex does not have to be planned, but both parties must consent during the scene._

_4\. The dog can take the collar off at any time if the dog feels uncomfortable or threatened. Removing the collar acts as a safeword in addition to the standard safeword already put into place._

_5\. The dog is allowed on the furniture. The dog is not a puppy anymore and his joints ache if he spends too much time on the floor, thank you very much._

_6\. The dog does not like to be humiliated, and will not respond to baby-talking, requests for tricks, or the name Fluffy._

_7\. If the dog needs to relieve himself, the dog can ~~piss right on the fucking floor ha ha~~ do so without breaking the scene by giving predetermined signals and go to the bathroom._

_8\. Show the dog respect and the dog will show respect._

It is crossed out in places and the ink is smudged and slightly faded, with additions added in over the years. It’s not a legal contract, more a set of guidelines, and their strict enforcement of those guidelines has slowly relaxed as they both grew more comfortable with the scene.

Occasionally, one of them will have to pull the lockbox out of the closet and the plastic baggie out of the lockbox and the paper out of the plastic baggie, and shove the list under the other one’s nose (“When I give the signal that I need to pee, it means _I need to pee._ ”), but for the most part the list is respected and adhered to.

\------------

When Dean walks through the door, sweaty and tired from spending the day buried under the hood of a temperamental Civic, the collar is not on its peg on the coat hanger by the door.

Dean stares at the empty peg for a few seconds, then pulls off his overshirt and hangs it up with a sigh. He can’t say that he wasn’t expecting this; finals week just ended, and Cas has been a mess of nerves for the last month. Being the brains of their operation means that he has to do well in school, because they sure as shit can’t keep living off of Dean’s paychecks alone, but even beyond that Castiel’s been stressing about his classes.

He toes off his boots, leaving them by the door, and moves through the tiny den to the tiny kitchen to wash his greasy hands. Sure enough, the dog is on the couch, curled up into as tight a ball as his bulk can fit, eyes closed and breath even. When Dean passes the couch, the dog opens his bright blue eyes and watches. “Hey boy,” Dean greets over his shoulder, and the dog huffs lightly in response.

The whole petplay thing was never really Dean’s jive, but Cas has never been ashamed of it. Even in the early stages of their relationship, it was just something that Dean had to get used to.

Pretending to be a dog calms Castiel down. Okay, cool. Whatever floats the boat, Dean guesses.

Dean washes his hands and sets himself to the task of making a sandwich, wondering if Cas ate before getting into his headspace or if he just came home from class, stripped his clothes, and stuck the plug in. Meals are generally taken before or after sceneing, because the dog can’t eat at the table and Cas won’t eat off the floor, but sometimes Cas gets himself so worked up and panicked that he’ll forget to snack on something beforehand.

Just in case, he makes peanut butter and banana, even though he prefers peanut butter and jelly, because he’s in love with a guy who forgets to eat before becoming a dog.

He returns to the den with his sandwich and a glass of milk, where Cas is spread out naked on the couch, his long limbs stretched over the sides and eyes closed once more. Dean pokes his butt. “I’m gonna sit on you if you don’t move.”

Cas groans and rolls over onto his side so he’s facing away from Dean before finally pulling his legs back up and tucking them against his stomach. “Dumb mutt,” Dean mumbles as he takes his seat and reaches for the remote. He settles on Pawn Stars with a yawn and gets through two bites of his sandwich before the dog twists awkwardly, turning around on the couch to rest the side of his face on Dean’s thigh.

Dean will never not think that the clip-on ears look kind of ridiculous, but he’s careful not to dislodge them as he wipes the crumbs off of one hand and drops it into Cas’s hair, scratching lightly. “Good boy,” he praises absent-mindedly, and Castiel rubs his cheek against Dean’s jeans with a quiet sigh.

After he’s polished off half the sandwich, Dean breaks off a small piece of what’s left and offers it to Cas, palm open. “Want some?” he asks, a bit uselessly because he knows the dog isn’t going to reply.

Cas cracks his eyes open and sniffs at the sandwich before carefully taking it between his teeth and drawing it into his mouth. His hips wiggle in pleasure and Dean snorts. “You’re going to get fat eating people food like that,” he chastises when Cas starts sniffing at his empty hand for more. Cas just rolls those big blue eyes up at him and blinks. Damn, but Dean can’t resist those eyes even when Cas isn’t sceneing. “Spoiled rotten.” He feeds him another bit of sandwich anyway.

The stupid one of the show says something remarkably stupid, and Dean laughs into his milk. It’s a testament to how devoted Cas is to his character that he just stares placidly up at Dean without reaction, because normally Cas hates this show. (“History channel is meant for _history_ , Dean, not this drivel.” Yeah okay Mister Theology Major.)

The dog licks at the palm of his hand, cleaning it of crumbs, and Dean wipes his hand off again before scratching down the back of Cas’s neck, over the leather collar.

See, that’s the thing about the dog. Dean knows that he’s smelly and dirty and probably tastes like motor oil, but he comes home and sits on the couch and the dog stares at him in adoration and leans as close as he can anyway.

Dean loves Cas. Really and truly loves him. Like, take-you-home-to-my-parents, get-a-mortgage-with-you loves him. And he knows that Cas loves him back, just as much if not more so. But Cas has difficulty expressing that sometimes, because his own parents were emotionally-stunted assholes who shouldn’t raise children.

So it’s nice, sometimes, for Cas to be the dog. The dog can show affection and acceptance in ways that Cas can’t, even if he feels them. Maybe _because_ he feels them. Dean gets why the headspace appeals to him so much, anyway.

He’s been tempted to try it himself, but he knows that he won’t be able to get into the character as well as Cas can. Unlike Cas, he didn’t take theatre all four years of high school.

Cas hums and wiggles his hips a bit harder. His tail plug isn’t one of those long, fluffy things that Dean sometimes sees when he gets curious and browses forums. It’s short, dark tan and black to match his floppy ears. Dean thinks that it’s supposed to mimic a rottweiler.

They don’t always have sex when they scene. Sometimes, it’s just because Cas needs to let go for a little while, to be something other than a stressed out college student who guiltily relies on his mechanic boyfriend to pay the bills. Sometimes they plan a weekend-long scene and for a few days Dean has a pet instead of a lover, but those are few and far between because staying in the headspace for that long is difficult and the drop afterwards can be brutal.

Usually when they do it’s agreed to beforehand, but Dean’s had a hard day filled with shit customers and he’s not opposed to getting his rocks off with his boyfriend-dog.

He leans over Cas, who chuffs curiously, and tweaks the stubby little end of the tail plug. It’s casual, an invitation that doesn’t require reciprocation or commitment. It’s not preplanned and the dog has no obligation to respond.

Castiel stills for a long moment and Dean backs away just as easily as he’d reached over. If the dog doesn’t want sex, Dean won’t push it. A few minutes later, after a commercial has come on, Cas butts his head against Dean’s thigh and nuzzles. When Dean looks down, Cas blinks his eyes twice, slowly and deliberately. It’s a signal.

_I’m game if you are._

Dean doesn’t nod because dogs don’t understand nods. He just runs his fingers through Cas’s hair again and says, “Good boy.”

They don’t start right away. He’s not hard, and a quick glance down tells him that Cas isn’t either. He sets his glass of milk to the side and with the hand not buried in Cas’s hair, he rubs his palm against his crotch. A sort of lazy pleasure runs up and down his spine, causing him to relax a bit more fully into the couch. Cas picks up on it, rubbing his cheek against Dean’s leg and pulling himself a little closer.

“You are a good boy,” he murmurs, unbuttoning his pants as his other hand dips lower, tugging gently on the collar around Castiel’s neck. He can feel the subtle pull on the other side of the collar as Cas swallows.

He pulls his half-hard dick out slowly, not at all hurried. Cas turns to regard it thoughtfully, his chin on Dean’s thigh. Dean strokes himself languidly, fingers digging into the soft hair at Castiel’s scalp as he leans his head against the back of the couch. A minute or so of this has his muscles turning into putty, which is why he’s surprised so much when a warm, wet tongue trails up the side of his dick.

He takes a deep breath as Cas laps at his cock, using just his tongue. He doesn’t use his lips, and he knows from prior experience that dogs who bite get smacked. There’s no method, no finesse, to the wet scrape of tongue, and really that’s half the thrill of it. There’s no alternation, no pattern, nothing for Dean to anticipate happening next. He jerks at himself a little bit harder, huffing out a laugh when Cas noses his hand as if to push it away as he starts to focus on the head, leaking pearly drops of pre.

“Good fucking boy,” he praises, and Castiel climbs a little bit further into his lap, hands just barely clenching over his thighs. To the side, his hips are squirming impotently, and Dean runs his fingers over Cas’s spine to rub right at the top of his rim, where the skin is stretched tight and pink around the plug, like he’d scratch a dog at the base of its tail.

Cas whines and nuzzles into his cock, ass lifting in response, but good dogs need to earn their treats and Dean just brings his hand back up into Cas’s hair.

Dean’s head drops back completely and he lets out a long, shaking breath. Cas moves down to his balls, still lapping indiscriminately, so Dean returns to jerking himself off, now completely hard.

It’s been a long, long time since he and Cas were so jazzed up that they couldn’t make it last. Being in the same relationship for half a decade does that to you, he thinks. At some point it becomes less about the overwhelming physical need more about the emotional fulfillment. This, touching Dean like this and sceneing like this, makes Cas happy. It lets him loosen up, lose some of his inhibitions.

And Dean gets an awesome sloppy blowjob out of it, which is always a bonus.

Cas nips at the loose skin at the base of his cock, which earns him a hard flick on the back of his neck. He yelps and lifts his head to stare at Dean, blue eyes wide and wounded, but Dean just glares down at him. Bad behavior is punished and good behavior is reinforced. This is how he’s always treated the dog.

“No,” he says firmly, and Cas shies away when he reaches out again. He pulls gently at a lock of black hair, mussed from his earlier ministrations, and pets until Cas relaxes again. Cas gives him a few more indulgent licks, clearly trying to make up for his mistake. Dean rewards him by giving another shallow tug of the tail, and Cas’s hips start to rock slowly.

Dean glances down and smirks. Yeah, definitely hard now. Time to move onto the good part.

He pushes the dog’s head away, ignoring the insulted whimper, and points to the couch. “Stay,” he says firmly. Cas frowns at him, expression beseeching and totally at odds with the red cock hanging thick between his legs. He shuffles forward and makes for Dean’s crotch again, but flinches away when Dean snaps his fingers. “Stay!”

Cas huffs and flops back down, face tightening in a slight wince as he jarrs the plug wedged in his ass. Dean reaches out and pets his face, cupping his chin and running his thumb beneath his eyes. “Good boy,” he murmurs. “Stay.”

He holds a hand over his dick as he stumbles to the bedroom, shucking his pants as he goes. He’s caught himself in his zipper enough times to have learned that taking off the clothes is important. He has a feeling he won’t have to search too hard for what he’s looking for, which is good because the dog has never easily grasped the concept of staying still after Dean’s left the room.

Sure enough, the lube is laying haphazardly on the bed, the cap already popped open. There’s a wet spot on the comforter underneath the bottle where it leaked and Dean frowns. “Impatient bastard,” he mumbles. “We’ll have to get that dry cleaned.” He’s tempted to linger in here a little longer to make Cas suffer for it, but in truth he’s pretty impatient too.

Besides, no point in punishing the dog for something Castiel did.

He grabs the lube and makes his way back to the den, stroking himself slowly as he does. Cas, good boy that he is, is in the exact spot Dean left him in, though Dean can see that his sides and thighs are trembling with the effort of keeping himself still. Dean bites his lip when the dog’s eyes snap onto his, then back down to his crotch.

“Stay,” he warns when Cas starts to move. Cas actually frowns, which is something way too human for him to be doing right now, and that’s how Dean knows he needs to get a move on. If Cas is slipping out of his headspace, then Dean is going way too slow. It’s his job to take care of his smart, pretty dog, after all.

Dean bends down in front of the couch, his knees touching the ground and his chin resting on the cushions. Cas twitches, and Dean rolls his eyes but relents. “Come,” he says, and immediately the dog drops down over him, licking at his forehead and cheeks excitedly. He gives a full body shiver when Dean squirts lube into his hands and slicks them up, then reaches behind himself and begins to rub at his own asshole. Dean sighs into the fabric of the couch and Cas leans his face into Dean’s hair, snuffling and licking his lips hungrily as he watches Dean sink a finger inside of himself.

Dean’s had just about enough of the teasing himself and he grits his teeth as he adds a second finger before he’s really ready for it. Fingering himself has always been a bit too embarrassing for Dean to enjoy, at least not without Cas talking him through it. Doing it while the dog watches unblinkingly is just _awkward_.

He shoves in a third finger and flexes them before pulling them out and getting more lube. When he returns to his ass he scissors his fingers, determined to do as thorough a prep as fast as possible. He’ll be thankful for the extra stretching in a few minutes, because Cas is usually careful and considerate, but the dog is not.

Cas huffs and fidgets, and finally Dean pulls away from himself, which kind of sucks because he was just starting to get into it. It’ll be worth it, though. He pours more lube into his hand and reaches down, grabbing ahold of Cas’s thick cock and pumping it, spreading the lube over the entire length. Cas’s hips jerk into his hand and Dean chuckles at the blissed-out look his dog has on his face.

“Come’ere,” he says finally once he’s sure they’re both properly slicked up, reaching back and slapping his ass to get the dog’s attention. Cas practically trips over himself in his haste to slide off the couch and Dean manages not to jolt in surprise when a fucking _tongue_ slips into his ass instead of a dick.

“Oh,” he gasps, then rocks backwards involuntarily as Cas licks at him enthusiastically despite the lube and the sweat that Dean knows has dried all down the length of his crack. (It’s like ninety degrees outside and he’s been in a hot garage all afternoon, what do you expect?)

Dean forces himself to hold still because the dog can’t hold him still, but he can’t help from panting into the couch cushions, eyes screwed up tight as Cas eats him out. He reaches back, unsure of whether he’s going to pull Cas closer to his ass or up over his back to just _fuck_ him already. He makes a grab and ends up with his hands on one of the clip-on ears, which thankfully doesn’t come off because that would be fucking awkward. Instead it just pulls at Cas’s hair, which causes him to whimper against Dean’s asshole, which shouldn’t feel good but really, really does.

“Come on boy,” Dean commands, rocking his hips back and forth enticingly. Finally Cas deems him well and truly licked out and shuffles around on his knees behind him. Arms hook over his hips, fingernails digging into his upper thighs, and Cas rests his forehead against the back of Dean’s neck, rubbing at him desperately.

Cas’s cock slides over his hole, between his asscheeks, and then again between the tight space of his thighs. Cas whines, pushing harder but unable to line himself up properly, so Dean reaches back and grabs his dick with an annoyed exhale. Finally, with assistance, Cas manages to push himself into Dean’s asshole, and from there he just goes hog wild.

The force of the thrusts has Dean clutching the edge of the couch, gasping out his breaths as Cas just fucking nails into him, hips smacking loudly against his. Cas licks at the back of his neck and the tops of his shoulders, teeth scraping as he growls against the skin, raising it and turning it red in some places.

Dean loves when they make love. He loves when Cas opens him up slow and presses into him gently, loves when Cas tells him how good he is and how warm and tight he is. He loves when they lay together afterwards, sweaty and spent, whispering and laughing like they’re teenagers again, trading teasing slaps and sweet kisses. He loves all of that, everything that has to do with making love.

Dean goddamn fuckin’ _loves_ fucking.

Cas bottoms out inside of him and then rubs his hips, grinding instead of thrusting, and Dean throws his head back and groans aloud. Cas takes the opportunity to lick at his lips, which tastes disgusting but is still really fucking hot. There isn’t much better in the world than the feeling of Cas’s cock splitting him open and filling him up. It ranks right up there with Mom’s apple pie and when Sammy smiles.

“Good boy,” he gasps, and Cas whines into his neck. “Such a good dog, so good.”

After a few more thrusts Cas slams hard into him and then stills, and Dean shudders at the feeling of that fat prick twitching deep inside of him and the slight warmth that he feels in his gut. Cas leans heavily over his back, chest heaving, and Dean’s thighs are shaking with the effort of holding them both up as he reaches down and tugs at his own cock, which is jerking and shooting off within a minute.

Cas gives him one more tender lick before pulling away, making Dean hiss at the sensation of suddenly being empty. This is the part that makes him the most uncomfortable, even more so than the prep, because he’s always half afraid he’s going to shit himself. Cas sits back on his haunches, and when Dean glances over his shoulder he sees Cas staring thoughtfully at his asshole, like he’s contemplating cleaning his mess up.

Despite the rather stellar orgasm he’d just had, Dean’s traitor dick gives a half-heartedly interested little twitch.

But the dog just pulls himself back up onto the couch, eyes closed and breath evening out again. He lets out an explosive exhale and nuzzles into the cushion, effectively ignoring Dean.

Dean grumbles and gets to his feet shakily, glaring down at Cas, who isn’t paying attention. “Little shit,” he complains without much heat. Cas opens one eye to look at him, then rolls until his back is facing Dean.

He makes his way to the bathroom on jittery legs and helps himself to a long shower, waiting until the water is cold before he gets out. If Cas wants to clean himself up after he ends the scene, well, he can do that in the cold.

Dean throws on a pair of loose boxers and pitches himself over onto the bed, grabbing a pillow and settling in for a post-fuck nap.

\------------

Cas crawls into bed next to him, startling him from sleep. Outside the window the sky is dark and Dean groans, rubbing at his eyes, before reaching out and running his fingers over Cas’s neck. Bare. He knows that the collar has been hung back up on its peg.

“You okay?” he mumbles, sleep-drunk, because now Cas will actually answer him.

“Mhmm,” Cas hums in response, wrapping his arms around Dean and drawing him closer. Dean settles against his chest with a yawn. Cas rubs his hands up and down Dean’s back soothingly, and Dean briefly fantasizes about maybe asking for a massage tomorrow.

“I can’t believe you flicked the dog,” Cas says finally. Dean snorts against his skin.

“Maybe the dog shouldn’t bite.”

“Learned behaviors,” Cas sniffs. “Pets act like their masters.”

Dean feels sleep tugging at him gently, but he scoots closer and threads his legs between Cas’s. “Then I should have a pretty damn awesome dog, because I’m a pretty damn awesome master.”

“Yes,” Castiel confirms with affectionate amusement, “you are.”

Dean goes back to sleep with a smile on his face.

 

**Author's Note:**

> ok im gonna go back to working on pin feathers now just wanted to get that out of the way


End file.
